Technicolor Yawn- A poem about chronic pain and self-medicating 

How many times have I gone to bed toting my trash can along the way 
Aligning my dreams with waste bins so if my feelings got too vivid even slumber couldn’t stop me from purging
How many nights and mornings were spent going to sleep and waking up to the tune of my own pain 

 

Singing songs of my own confusion and despair, always in time with the pulse of my heart
Sensation can be your metronome and setting your day by pain is rhythmic 
Countless days and countless lies to everyone and myself avoiding the truth I don’t know
Tear stained pillows catching the fears inside my throat, trash can catching the rest 
Smiles can hide pain but they can’t take it away 

 

Smiles like Percocet 
How many bottles did I suckle at to nurse away the pain 

Happy hour comes when the pain is muted

How many nights did I count pills to the tune of sheep to put my body to rest 
Eyes as heavy as corpses 

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